


Morning Starshine

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-13
Updated: 2006-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Join Atobe in his fluffity fluffy morning routine</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Starshine

Atobe’s alarm buzzed to life at 5:00 AM. He smacked the snooze button and stared at the ceiling, occasionally rolling his attention to the blinking lights on the alarm, hoping that time would be decent for once and stop so he could nap in peace.

Ten minutes later, he hefted himself out of bed and into a periwinkle satin robe. He strode through the hall, picking up bits of breakfast from servants; a taste of bagel, a sip of miso, a nibble of a croissant.

By 6, Atobe was dressed in a cleanly pressed uniform, hair combed to perfection, skin dusted with the lightest spray of his favorite cologne, a scent that mixed baby powder, jasmine, and clove. It was made especially for the Atobe family, like most things Atobe allowed on his person.

“Keigo-sama, the car is ready for you.” Atobe’s butler, Ichitarou, was under instructions not to bow. He’d washed Atobe’s diapers and cleaned up countless scraped knees and Atobe refused to have the people dearest to him groveling like peasants. For Christmas, Atobe was going to buy Ichitarou a new house, one with a large garden so the old man could enjoy his retirement in a few years.

“Coming, Ichitarou.” Atobe checked his watch. “Hurry or we’ll be late.” He slid into the back seat of the black Bentley. The limousine was too extravagant for morning drives. The Bentley was small but polished to perfection.

“The usual, Atobe-dono?” the chauffer asked, smiling the smile Atobe’s father paid him far too much to smile.

Atobe lofted his wrist into the air, dismissing the driver’s question. The car started and cruised three estates down, where Atobe exited the vehicle and paused, standing at the front gate. It usually took the servants a few minutes to recognize him, even though he always arrived at 6:18, no matter the weather or his own state of dishevelment.

“Keigo-kun, it’s so good to see you,” a woman said over the driveway speaker. “Come inside.” The gates opened and Atobe walked inside. The first time he came here, he was upset at the servants' lack of formality. He was used to it now, though, and somewhat enjoyed it.

The front door of the house opened for him when he arrived and a short, round, wrinkled woman with thinning gray hair gestured for Atobe to put on a pair of house slippers. “It’s a fine morning,” she said, patting Atobe on the shoulder. “You look well today.” She winked and gestured Atobe up the stairs. “He’s still asleep, of course.”

Atobe nodded and ascended the winding oak stairway. Its boards were worn and ill-polished. If it were Atobe’s house, the stairs would be cherry wood and glossed to mirrors. The home Atobe was in was a more relaxed place than Atobe’s grand domicile. The servants and the masters were on a first-name basis. There were no samas, no donos.

At the end of the stairs, Atobe turned right and walked down a bright hall decorated with family photos. Children and adults, extended family and strangers who’d simply walked into the park and thought a festival was going on – all of them were on the wall, framed in gold and silver and the occasional frame from the 100 yen store, purchased because the mistress of the house liked the duckies with blue ribbons that searched for bread on the rim of the frame.

The third door down the hall on the left was open and from it a soft snore wafted on the air. If the snore was louder, Atobe knew the room’s occupant was catching cold. If the snore was gone, Atobe knew the occupant was awake and faking sleep for Atobe’s sake. Checking his uniform to ensure it was still in order, Atobe entered the room and stopped before a king size bed.

On the bed was a ball of blankets and pillows, lofting up and floating down in time with the snoring creature under them. Every third breath a small wheeze, the result of an acute asthma condition that no one but the resident family and Atobe knew of, squeaked through the pillowcases.

“Get up,” Atobe told the pillow mound in his usual, imperious tone.

The pillows snorted at him but continued their slow rise and fall.

“Ore-sama is a busy person. Get up.” Atobe gave the pillows a shove, dislodging one and uncovering a small quilted blanket underneath.

In the hall, Atobe heard the servants retreat from outside the door.

His shoulders relaxed and he swiped the pillows off the bed, revealing two sleep-crusted eyes slowly blinking themselves into alertness. “Jirou, it’s time for school.”

“It’s too early, Keigo.” Jirou snuggled back into his blankets, pulling a small, ratty blue quilt over his head. A heavy smack sounded under the blankets as Jirou patted the mattress. “Sleep, Keigo.”

Atobe smiled and watched the blankets steady as Jirou fell asleep again. He’d wake the boy in another ten minutes and make him dress for school. They left at 6:45, no later.


End file.
